


Giving Him the D(eet)

by space_rogue



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Wade Wilson, Dialogue Heavy, Established Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pining, Protective Wade Wilson, Sexual Content, but not a sexual hug ok, no beta we die like men, peter parker is.... working on it, wade wilson is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_rogue/pseuds/space_rogue
Summary: Peter Parker refuses to talk about his hero complex and will not apologize for accidentally spoiling Desperate Housewives for Wade the ONE TIME he goes on Twitter. Wade has a very mature and reasonable way to deal with these grievances.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 157





	Giving Him the D(eet)

“Godfuckingmothershit— Wade, you got it in my eye!”

“That’s what she said!”

“No, that’s what _I_ said,” Peter grumbled, rubbing angrily at the side of his face to wipe away the sticky, smelly substance. “What is wrong with you?”

“You want that list alphabetically or chronologically, baby boy?”

Peter groaned. “Neither. Rhetorical.”

Wade’s face crumpled and Peter felt a horrible swoop of guilt assault his stomach. He sighed.

“Oh no – you only drop sentence fragments when you’re really pissed off, Pete. I’m, uh— are you angry?” Wade’s shoulders slumped as he said it, adding a pitiful slouch to his crushed expression.

“I mean, yeah, a little bit,” Peter stepped forward but kept his arms crossed. He was (a little bit) angry, after all. “Wade, babe, you can’t just keep spraying me with Raid every time I do something you don’t like.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dumb and dangerous and—”

“—and sometimes kinda hilarious—”

“—yeah, alright, _sometimes_ but that’s not the point—”

“—you’ve got a healing factor! True, it’s not as good as mine, but still I promise a lil bit ‘o bug spray ain’t gonna hurt ya—”

“—or, you know, you could just use your words and talk to me about whatever’s bugging you like a normal human—”

“—ha! _Bugging_ me—”

“Wade—"

“Besides,” Wade said, slashing his katana through another giant tentacle and splattering alien goo everywhere. “we are definitely not normal.”

Peter sighed again and looked around at the carnage that surrounded them. No matter how many times it happened, he would never get used to seeing Manhattan covered in alien corpses. Especially ones with tentacles. Somewhere in the distance, Peter could hear the unmistakable crashes and explosions that meant the Avengers were probably finishing up the fight. Peter sat heavily on a broken piece of sidewalk and kicked a piece of tentacle away from him. “Yeah, you got me there.”

Wade walked over to stand above Peter, wiping the blade of his katana on his forearm as he went. “In an effort to be _slightly_ more normal ( _not_ because I wanna conform to societal standards or anything – just because you mention it and I’m tryna be a good boyfriend) I will use my words.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s not like you _ever_ talk to me about anything—”

“Shut up, boyfriend, I’m using my words,” Wade flicked alien goo at Peter, who groaned and flopped onto his back in both mental and physical exhaustion. Why was he dating the weirdest, most immature man on Earth?

Unfortunately for Peter, Wade took the opportunity to sit on Peter’s chest. Grunting at the additional weight, Peter took his own opportunity to jab Wade in the ribcage to make him squeal with laughter.

Okay, so maybe they were dating because they were both weird and immature.

“Well? Are you gonna use your words or not?” Peter asked tauntingly.

Wade looked down at Peter, an expression of concern somehow showing through his mask. “I don’t like it when you put yourself in danger—”

“Tough, we’re superheroes. It’s what we do.”

“—to save me.”

Peter bit back another snarky comment. “Wade,” he said quietly. “we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” Wade growled impatiently. “I know we have. But it’s still— it’s stupid, Petey. I can’t die, I can’t even really get hurt, but you—”

“I know, dammit, Wade, I _know_. And just because you can’t get hurt doesn’t mean you’re not in pain.” Peter suddenly sat up and shoved his boyfriend off his chest. Wade tumbled into the ruined street with a murderous look on his face.

“You’re the one who wanted me to use my words!”

“Not so we could have the same damn argument over and over again!”

“I’m not responsible for fixing your fucking hero complex, Peter!”

“Jesus, Wade, keep your voice down, we’re still working—”

“Trouble in paradise?”

Natasha’s familiar voice stopped Wade from whatever he was about to say next. She was looking surprisingly unruffled by the fight and had an annoyingly smug look on her face. “No. We’re fine, Nat.” Peter grunted, maybe a little more harshly than he intended.

“I don’t actually care,” Natasha said coolly. “but civilians are starting to come back outside, and we need people to keep them off the streets until SHIELD can get a cleanup team over here.”

Wade stood abruptly and gave her an exaggerated salute. “Your Friendly Neighborhood Deadpool and his relatively unknown boyfriend are on the case, Spider-M’am!”

Both Peter and Natasha rolled their eyes. “I was actually thinking that Spider-Man would—” Natasha started. Peter cut her off, anticipating another fight with Wade if she finished that sentence.

“—we’ll both help out, thanks Nat.” Peter said. Beside him, he could practically feel Wade’s anxious energy draining slowly away. “Wade, looks like there’s some kids over there who are looking a little extra curious about that dead alien, think you can go distract them?”

“On it!” Wade yelled enthusiastically, bounding over to the gaggle of children that were hovering in a nearby doorway.

“How do you put up with—” Natasha started. Peter once again cut her off, not bothering to keep the venom out of his voice this time.

“None of your business, Natasha.”

* * *

Later, when they had both scrubbed off the sweat and dirt and alien guts and peeled themselves out of their suits, Peter and Wade flopped together on their shitty futon in a tangle of limbs. Wade was scrolling through Netflix, babbling incessantly about the merits of each show as it flicked by. To be honest, Peter wasn’t listening – as he sprawled with his feet over one side of the futon and his head on Wade’s lap, he just wanted Wade to pick something so they could finally relax.

“—whaddaya think, Petey?” Wade asked, apparently finished with his tirade.

“Huh?”

Somewhere above him, Peter could practically _feel_ how intensely Wade rolled his eyes.

“You seriously weren’t listening to any of that?” Wade asked, sounding slightly hurt.

“Uh, yeah— I heard some of it,” Peter said weakly. Wade sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just— I don’t know. I guess I don’t care what we watch, it’s up to you.”

To Peter’s surprise, he heard the unmistakable _click_ of the TV shutting off. “We don’t have to watch anything.” said Wade softly.

“That’s not necessarily what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then? Remember, Webs, we’re boyfriends who use our _words_.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Peter retorted, but there was no heat in his voice. He sat up so he could look at Wade’s face and noted that it was fixed into a careful mask of contained concern. “I don’t know what I meant.”

“Are we supposed to talk about what happened in Midtown today?”

“Ugh, have you been talking to Steve again? We don’t need to have a full debriefing after every damn alien invasion—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Wade muttered. “Are we gonna argue about the hero complex thing or nah?”

Peter sat in stunned silence for a moment. Of all the things he expected Wade to say, that was far from one of them. Both Wade and Peter tended to avoid difficult conversations – it was one of the things that made them work. This was officially off-book. So Peter, idiot that he was, decided to try and get them back on script.

“Nah.” he said simply, then pulled himself around so he was straddling Wade’s hips. Peter braced himself against the back cushion with a hand beside Wade’s head and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend.

For his part, Wade responded with more enthusiasm than Peter expected – he immediately wrapped his hands around Peter’s thighs and pulled the two of them closer together. Peter moaned as he deepened the kiss, rolling his hips in a way that always caused Wade to gasp hungrily into his ear. Smiling against Wade’s lips, Peter moved his hands to Wade’s waistband and—

“GODDAMN IT, WADE!”

Wade cackled and shook the bottle of Raid tauntingly in Peter’s face. Peter leapt to the side, spitting bug spray out of his mouth as he clung to the living room wall. “Where did you even hide that?!” Peter demanded, pointedly looking at Wade’s mostly-naked body.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wade purred, a gigantically infuriating smirk plastered on his face. “Good bugs only get _this dick_ when they talk about their feelings, Petey.”

Peter dropped to the floor and fought the urge to hurl several books at Wade’s head. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this to himself, but he seriously had some regrets about teaching Wade about emotional maturity. “Spiders aren’t bugs.”

“You sure, Webs? Because you’re certainly _bugging_ me—”

“Jesus fuck,” Peter groaned, storming to the other side of the room. “I’m gonna work on my suit.”

“Remember to think about your hero complex while you’re at it!”

“Shut up, Wade!”

* * *

Wade had been in Bolivia (probably… Peter never actually asked for specifics. But for some reason Wade seemed to always end up in Bolivia) for fifteen days.

And it was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. Peter wasn’t one of those boyfriends who pined for his long-lost lover like some kind of sappy rom-com character. Wade was gone a lot for missions. It was something that Peter got used to – they both made sacrifices: Wade agreed to stop taking hit jobs and Peter dealt with him being gone for weeks or months at a time. It was fine.

So maybe Peter’s version of “dealing with it” had changed a bit over the years. Where he used to carry on with his life as usual (but with significantly less sex and more memes texted back and forth), now Peter found that when Wade left New York it was… different. Now Peter stayed in his apartment instead of patrolling (it was dangerous out there without Wade on backup!), ate disgusting amounts of takeout fast food (what, was he just supposed to cook for _one person_?), and watched like, a _lot_ of porn (the no sex thing was a bit of an issue when he was bored, sue him).

It was fine. And he definitely wasn’t _pining_. Sleeping and eating and masturbating were all perfectly normal solitary behaviors.

Which was why he was completely unashamed to find himself sitting on their futon in the middle of the day eating Doritos in his boxers and watching Netflix. Sadly, his blissful alone time was broken when the biggest roach Peter had ever seen scurried across their living room floor.

“Whoa, you’re a big guy –” Peter murmured, reaching instinctively for his webshooters. Then he remembered they were in the bedroom pending some minor adjustments. “Damn.”

Peter stumbled over the back of the futon and rooted through cabinet under their kitchen sink. “C’mon, I know Wade keeps this shit somewhere… Ha!” Finally Peter found what he was looking for: the Raid.

Jogging back to the living room, Peter fought the urge to make a snarky comment at the roach as he aimed the nozzle. He did get some sick satisfaction out of using the Raid for its intended purpose, rather than experiencing Wade spraying it at him.

As Peter was sweeping the dead roach into the trash, their apartment door flew open with a loud _bang_. An even louder announcement followed as Wade entered the room.

“PETEY PIE, MY DARLING HONEY BUNCHES OF CUTENESS, I’M HOME!”

“Wade!” Peter couldn’t help it – he was pretty damn happy to have his boyfriend back. He leaped over the futon and pulled Wade against his chest in a tight hug.

“I missed ya, Pete,” Wade mumbled, nuzzling his half-masked face into Peter’s hair. “How’s it going? What’d I miss? You better not have watched Schitt’s Creek without me, so help me God—”

Peter laughed and turned to kiss his boyfriend. “I would never. You didn’t miss anything, it’s been so boring around here.”

Wade let out an exaggerated gasp. “I did miss stuff – I missed _you_ —”

“— _so_ corny—”

“—and by the sounds of it you totally missed me too.”

Peter snorted. “Only a little.”

With a barking laugh (yeah, alright, Peter _loved_ that laugh and it did feel good to hear it again) Wade leaped into Peter’s arms. Peter caught Wade easily, grinning and pulling the larger man against him for an awkward squeeze. “Alright, Mr. Tough Guy With No Feelings. You missed me.”

No sense lying about it. “Yeah, I did,” Peter said softly. He turned and placed Wade on the clearest of their kitchen counters. Wade’s legs wrapped automatically around Peter’s waist as they both leaned in to kiss each other properly. With his hands on either side of Wade’s head, Peter turned his face to deepen the kiss, pressing himself tighter against his boyfriend with an embarrassingly high-pitched moan (it wasn’t a whine). When he reached for Wade’s belt, however, Wade stopped him.

“Sorry, babe,” Wade mumbled. “I gotta eat first. I haven’t had anything but ration bars for like eight days and the ‘ole metabolism is about to call it quits on me.”

“Oh,” Peter backed away, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. They would have plenty of time to fuck each other’s brains out later. “Yeah, no worries.”

“Not that I don’t want to,” Wade said hurriedly, hopping down from the counter. “Obviously. I mean, look at you – already in your boxers and—” Wade sniffed at the air like a dog. “— _covered in Spicy Nacho Dorito dust_ , oh Petey you shouldn’t have!”

Peter laughed and turned to leave the room. “Get something to eat, I’m gonna shower.”

“Feel free to take too long, I’m gonna join you!” Wade called. Peter heard the fridge open just as he was about to head toward the bathroom. “Wait a minute – PETE!”

Peter ran back into the kitchen, already taking stock of where his webshooters were and what could be used as a weapon in their kitchen. Wade’s voice was strained, like he was fighting back anger. “What’s wrong, babe?” Peter asked.

Wade was standing in front of the open fridge, staring into its depths with open-mouthed shock on his now-unmasked features. “There’s no food.”

“Ah shit,” Peter’s heart dropped through his stomach. “Wade, I’m so sorry – I lost track of the days and I meant to fill the fridge before you got home – I just haven’t been cooking lately—”

“You’re gonna get it, Petey.” Wade growled, but there was a sneaky grin crawling across his face. Before Peter could say a word or make a move, Wade was diving over the futon and reaching for a bottle—

“NO! Wade, I swear to God if you spray me with that again—!”

“Ah-HA!” Wade squealed and flung himself at Peter, the Raid clutched tightly in one fist. “Bad bug!”

“Spiders aren’t bugs!” Peter yelled while attempting (and failing) to run away.

Ten minutes later Peter was stuck to the ceiling, laughing hysterically and dripping with bug spray as Wade cackled below him, the empty bottle of Raid still in one hand.  
  


* * *

“Holy fucking— are you _kidding_ me, Wade?!”

“You earned this.”

“Dude, I was _sleeping_!”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing when you’re not busy _betraying me_?”

“Wade, I said I was sorry, okay – it was an honest mistake. I would never intentionally spoil Desperate Housewives for you.”

“ _And yet here we are_.”

“I’m sorry. Okay? Truly. I’ll never go on Twitter again. Can we please go back to sleep?”

“…fine.”

“For the record, I am _so_ sick of smelling like bug spray.”

* * *

New York City was weirdly quiet that night.

Peter and Wade had been patrolling for three hours already that night and they hadn’t seen a single disturbance yet, not even a lost tourist. They’d even scoped out the Upper East Side, hoping that maybe someone was trying to rob Mike Bloomberg so they could sit back and watch (…maybe Wade was having a bad influence on Peter after all, but fuck that guy) with no luck. Peter had just mentioned they could call it a night, so Wade wandered off to find some food before they headed home. Peter sat on a rooftop waiting, killing time by scrolling through his phone.

“The itsy bitsy Deadpool climbed up the fire escape…” Peter smiled as he heard Wade approach the edge of the building several stories below. Wade was cooing softly to himself, but of course Peter could hear it. Putting away his phone, he peeked over the side of the building and called down.

“Need a hand?”

“Mmf?” Wade looked up at Peter, a bag of takeout hanging from his teeth and a grappling hook already swinging from one hand to catch the edge of the iron fire escape ladder.

Peter chuckled to himself and shot a web at Wade. It hit Wade’s chest and Peter waited for Wade to give him a thumbs up before tugging his boyfriend up over the side of the building. When he reached the top, Wade leapt over the edge like he was stepping off an elevator, tossing the bag of food to his boyfriend.

“Oh, baby boy, you know I love it when you show off your Spidey strength to string me along,” Wade crooned, clasping his hands together in an exaggerated show of swooning affection.

“And you know I love it when you bring me food,” Peter replied happily as he opened the paper bag. “Oooh, Veselka again? Nice.”

  
“Only the best for my bestest boyf,” Wade said. He leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on the side of Peter’s masked face. “I know you love that weird Ukrainian food.”

“It’s not weird,” Peter protested, his mouth already full of pierogi. Wade smirked and opened his own box and Peter’s heart melted a little because he was a stupid little sap. “Thank you.”

Wade gave him a thumbs up and shoved half a sandwich into his face. After swallowing most of it within seconds, he said “Actually, this bacon egg and cheese is fucking phenomenal so I’m not complaining.”

“Yeah, it’s the latke. Adds a bit of crunch.”

“Goddamn genius.”

The two of them sat in an unconventional but comfortable silence for a few minutes, happily chewing their food and watching the city start to come back to life around them. Peter rested his head against Wade’s shoulder and zoned out for a moment. He came back to reality when an old man tottering into Central Park caught Peter’s attention.

“Wade,” Peter said softly. “do you wanna talk about… uh, the hero complex thing?”

Under his cheek, Wade’s shoulder tensed infinitesimally. “Sure.”

“We don’t have to right now, if you don’t want – we can wait until we get home, I just figured—”

“Now is good.”

“Okay,” Peter sighed, but did not pick his head up from where it rested against Wade. For some reason he thought this might be easier if he didn’t have to physically face Wade head-on. How had Peter ever though _he_ was the mature one in this relationship?! “You know I’ve been Spider-Man for like… 12 years, right?”

“’Course, darlin’, and I’ve been admiring dat ass from afar ever since I first set foot in this weird-ass city. Not in a creepy way, of course. Well. Sometimes in a creepy way. But I promise I didn’t get here until you were at least 18 so we can avoid that underage tag in the fic.” Wade babbled.

“Focus, Wade.” Peter said gently. Wade obediently trailed off into silence. “So I’ve been doing… hero stuff for a long time. Almost half my life. And at this point— I don’t think I really know how to, like, pause it.”

“Mmhm.” Wade wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and squeezed.

“I just feel like I need to help everyone, all the time, and I know that’s not possible but – when I see someone in trouble (even if it’s someone I _know_ can take care of themselves, like you) I can’t help myself from stepping in. Especially when it’s someone I love.” Peter felt a balloon of shame swell up in his chest as he realized his eyes were filling with tears. Thank God for his mask. “I’ve already lost enough people I love because I was being an idiot. I can’t – I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

“This is about Uncle Ben?”

“And Gwen.” Peter’s voice was garbled. He had to get back in control of his emotions or this was gonna get embarrassing. “They both died because I made some stupid decisions.”

“They both died because bad people killed them,” Wade growled. “You make stupid decisions all the time. I would even argue that putting yourself in danger to save your boyfriend _who is literally immortal and unkillable_ is an even stupider decision.”

“Wade, that’s what I’m saying—” Peter sat up suddenly, a rush of hot anger cutting through his shame like a knife. “I know that, logically. But in the moment it feels impossible for me to stand by and do nothing while you could be getting hurt. Doing nothing feels worse than putting myself in danger.”

“How do you think I feel?” Wade said quietly. Peter’s heart skipped a beat. He had never heard Wade speak in this tone of voice. “I’ve lost people too, Peter. Because of my stupidity. So when you put yourself in danger to save someone like me—”

“—you are worth saving, Wade, how many times do I have to tell you—”

“No, fuck,” Wade removed his arm from Peter’s shoulders to clutch his face in frustration. “This isn’t about my self-esteem, stop assuming every problem I’ve got is because I hate myself! I mean that when you put yourself in danger to save someone who doesn’t need to be saved, it makes me feel… I don’t know. Useless. Or, like, weak.”

Peter sat in stunned silence for a few seconds. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“I know,” Wade said softly. “I’ve been working _so hard_ – harder than the boob tape during awards season, babe! – to remember that I’m smart and badass and capable, and you’ve helped me so much with that, but every time you swoop in and save me… I think maybe none of it is true.”

“Shit, Wade, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Wade said. “This is why we needed to talk about it. ‘Cuz I also totally get that you need to do something to help because that’s just who you are. What we gotta do is meet in the middle somehow.”

Peter smiled and stroked Wade’s cheek through the Deadpool mask. “When did you get so good at this stuff, boyfriend?”

With a grin that showed plainly through the mask, Wade patted Peter’s thigh and said, “YouTube.”

“Huh. And all this time I thought you were just watching porn.”

“Yeah, _social-emotional learning_ porn!”

Peter laughed and put his head back on Wade’s shoulder. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Of course you do. You put that big ‘ole science brain to _werk_!”

“God,” Peter shoved his face into Wade’s bicep in mock embarrassment. “What if I designed something for your suit? Like, some kind of Spidey tech so you can use it and be a totally smart and capable badass, but I feel like I’m helping too?”

Wade suddenly turned and pulled Peter into a bone-crushing hug. “That sounds so flippin’ perfect I’m gonna scream! Can I have a teleporter? Mine is broken, ya know. Has been for years. Convenient plot device, very inconvenient for travel expenses. NO WAIT! I want a laser. Or one of those dope spider drones. OH – or a shield, so I can be just like Mister Captain America!”

Peter got to his feet and crumpled the empty takeout bags to throw them away. He pulled Wade up by the hand and smoothly brought them chest to chest. Rolling up both their masks, Peter took a moment to kiss his boyfriend, partially to stop him from talking and partially because he was so happy they had worked something out. Just as he was running his tongue along Wade’s bottom lip, however, he felt a horrible sticky wetness sliding down his neck and smelled something incredibly strong—

“No way,” Peter groaned, breaking the kiss and moving quickly away from Wade. “There is _no way_ you just dumped more Raid on me. What could I possibly have done this time?!”

Wade beamed at him, holding up a tiny spray bottle that definitely wasn’t Raid. “Not bug spray, baby! You did good, talking to me about stuff, so I gave you a little reward this time—”

“ _What kind of reward_?!”

“Spider pheromones,” Wade said matter-of-factly. “Duh.”

“What the— where did you even get that?”

“The internet!”

“Stop spraying me with things, Wade!”

“Even spider pheromones?”

“Especially spider pheromones.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for reading! fuck mike bloomberg amiright - also Veselka is a real place in NYC open 24 hours a day and they really do have that bacon/egg/cheese/latke sandwich and I NEED ONE
> 
> drop a comment if you have a moment, I love hearing from y'all almost as much as I love writing about these dumb bois and their shenanigans ♥


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